


To Protect A Prince

by twiceshy (oncebitten)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Royalty AU of sorts, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 12:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11161476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncebitten/pseuds/twiceshy
Summary: "Why do you want to be a warrior anyway?" Taeyong asked."To carry a sword," Yuta said, like it was obvious.





	To Protect A Prince

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why I started typing this lapslocked. Inspired by Yuta carrying a sword in NCT Life all those months ago.

**PART 1.**

 

1.

 

yuta's first memory of taeyong is from a time when they were both tiny children. yuta didn't know that taeyong was an important person at the time, but his clothes were far too clean, he only spoke one language (yuta knew two!), and he knew nothing at all about catching butterflies. yuta's mother made them play together anyway, and yuta was annoyed. when his mother looked away, yuta smeared sand on taeyong's clothes with his grubby hands. taeyong looked fascinated by that _(stu-pid,_ yuta thought _)_  but yuta's mother turned hysterical when she noticed. "you're going to be in trouble when they find out," she sobbed in their language, "why are you such a horrible child," and yuta was terrified. he didn't know why but he was getting scolded, and he couldn't help crying too. taeyong looked at them both with wide eyes, then threaded his arm through yuta's and stood between him and his mother protectively, glaring at her angrily because she made him cry. yuta's mother stopped yelling, in complete shock, and sank to her knees in relief. "oh, thank god. thank god, thank god," she cried, and pulled yuta into her arms. yuta cried damp stains into her shoulder. he still didn't know why but he was relieved too. taeyong's arm was still hooked awkwardly around yuta's but yuta forgot he was there. years later, it would be a detail he remembered warmly.

 

 

2.

 

"when i grow up i'm gonna be a warrior," yuta told taeyong proudly.

 

"mmm i'm already a prince," taeyong said, a little regretful that he never had a choice.

 

"i'm gonna carry a sword," yuta said.

 

"you'll have to take a ton of exams," taeyong said, because it was true for anyone without status, and yuta didn't even know who his dad was so he really had no status. his tutor said so when taeyong had asked for yuta before.

 

yuta pouted. "but i don't wanna study all the time like you."

 

"you'll have to," taeyong said, maybe a bit vengefully, because yuta got to play all the time and it wasn't fair.

 

"but it's boring," yuta whined.

 

"why do you want to be a warrior anyway?" taeyong asked.

 

"to carry a sword," yuta said, like it was obvious.

 

"but _what for_? swords are boring."

 

"to protect you with, of course!" yuta said, and rolled his eyes because there couldn't be any other reason.

 

taeyong thought it was a really stupid thing to say because yuta was the one who needed saving all the time.

 

 

3.

 

yuta wasn't the most natural swordsman in the world but he looked like a genius next to taeyong. they started learning at the same time and while yuta continued to improve steadily, taeyong had stagnated long, long ago. there was something violent about sword fighting that taeyong hated, even if it was just sparring. he hated fighting people from so close. well, yuta didn't exactly _like_ the physical proximity of sword fighting either, but he didn't recoil from it the way taeyong did.

 

the lucky thing for taeyong was he was good enough with archery that his poor sword fighting skills were forgiven. not completely, mind - nobody was happy that the country's only male heir wasn't half as athletic as he should be. because of that, taeyong never got a day off from practising even if he had a cold, but his by virtue of having other duties, his trainers stopped a step before locking up in a room to spar all day until he improved.

 

yuta didn't have that kind of luxury. his master was as unforgiving as the sun was hot, and he was bruised and exhausted every time taeyong saw him. but yuta was bent on becoming the best warrior of his age and taeyong knew that nothing he said would every convince him otherwise. as he watched yuta spar from the window of his study while doing his homework on income tax systems, taeyong wished he understood yuta a little less, for he missed yuta's company terribly, and having the illusion that he could possibly talk yuta into chasing another dream was better than what he had. maybe he should have talked yuta out of it while yuta was younger and stupider.

 

 

4.

 

"yuta will be my warrior," taeyong told his father wearily. it earned him a severe glare, just as he expected.

 

"you're not supposed to choose your warriors because they're your friends."

 

"i trust him with my life. i can say that about no other."

 

his father's expression didn't soften one bit. taeyong knew he wouldn't yield far.

 

"even friends must be subjected to interrogations if they are to guard my son."

 

he'd expected that, though he'd prayed every night for months that it wouldn't come to be. he hated harder than ever that yuta didn't care less about him. if yuta could just disappear from the palace forever taeyong would be terribly sad, but yuta would be unharmed. he hated his father for doing this even though it was the way things always were. it was so stupid, so meaningless for such a high value to be placed on his life just because he was born a prince.

 

"yuta will do it," taeyong said, bitterness and self-loathing seeping into every word. yuta wouldn't reveal any bad intentions during the interrogation, taeyong had full confidence of that. it was a pointless exercise and yuta would probably bear scars for the rest of his life, but yuta would choose to do it, and taeyong had to let him if he respected him at all. he'd worked hard for years to become good enough, and taeyong loved him far too much to make him fail, even if it broke taeyong's heart.

 

(a part of taeyong wondered if yuta could ever protect him, for he made him feel things so much worse than getting hurt or dying ever could.

 

he'd hide those thoughts from yuta forever, for yuta would hate himself if he knew, and _that_  taeyong could never allow.

 

taeyong knew all too well how it felt to hate himself to let yuta - idealistic, shining, beautiful yuta - sink so low.)

 

 

5.

 

"you're not supposed to do that, you're a prince and i'm fine," yuta said from bed, prideful as always.

 

"you're a fool," taeyong ignored him and said, unwrapping the bandages around yuta's hand. he winced when he saw the mess that had become of one of his fingernails, but it wasn't infected. the nurse taeyong chased out of the room had done a good job cleaning him up the previous day.

 

"i'm your warrior now," yuta proclaimed proudly, then winced as taeyong dabbed alcohol gently at the wound.

 

"you're stupid."

 

"it's my job to protect you now," and even with all the wounds he managed a dreamy smile.

 

"protect yourself instead," taeyong retorted.

 

"that's not my job anymore," and somehow, somehow, bedridden and injured and with new gashes that would scar forever all over his body, yuta looked as though it was the best day of his life. taeyong couldn't say another word without breaking down.

 

he changed all of the smaller bandages in silence, but yuta stopped him before he reached the one around his chest. it was the largest one. even covered, it made taeyong's stomach squirmed with dread and guilt like he'd never known. "please don't see that one," yuta implored softly.

 

taeyong nodded stiffly. "i'll call the nurse back," he said, and after that he ran back to his own room. it was far enough that yuta could never see him or hear him from where he was, but he shut the door softly just in case the sounds traveled to the sick room. still, there was nothing quiet about the way he dove into bed and wept into his sleeve. the sobs wracked his body.

 

 _"protect me by protecting yourself, you idiot,"_ he cried, but it was too late.

 

 

6.

 

sometimes there were easier times. the air between them was always heavier than it used to be, but that wasn't bad, just different. they were almost grown-ups now, and they had grown-up things to be concerned about.

 

it was so straightforward to be around each other that it was almost _intense_. sometimes they had nothing to say, and the air was filled with the sound of familiar breaths and a warm presence. there was a time when taeyong needed to fight hard with himself to avoid distancing himself and well, yuta thought he knew why, though they never brought it up. taeyong's issues with his self-image was something he had to deal with himself. they'd changed a little bit to accommodate their new roles of prince and warrior, then settled again, the same but different. more formality, more responsibility, but the same easygoing friendship and the same implicit understanding.

 

yuta's world revolved around taeyong. or maybe yuta's universe was half taeyong, and the other was himself, and there were just the two of them there. taeyong was the person he loved most in the world, and that was an easy fact to accept when the realisation finally struck, for who else did yuta want to spend every second of his existence with? yuta was in love and he didn't need anything more, for taeyong opened his heart and his mind to yuta in every way and he knew they had an equal relationship.

 

yuta wasn't being presumptuous by assuming that taeyong was in love with him as well. it was in his smile and his gaze when their eyes met and they talked. it was just another beautiful fact of the way things worked.

 

"come back here, i'm going to make you learn to write your own language whether you like it or not," taeyong called from his seat.

 

they broke the conventional rules, but there were times when that was okay.

 

 

7.

 

"i think you're better at being a member of the imperial palace than me," taeyong commented one night as he laid in bed reading through some old scrolls. it wasn't the proper way to act at all obviously, and his tutor said he'd spoil his eyes if he kept doing that, but yuta wasn't going to snitch.

 

yuta looked at taeyong sprawled out messily on his side, holding an end of the scroll with a hand rested on the bed, and the other end extended out above his head level. it was all kinds of cute. yuta grinned. "you're right obviously, because you're terrible. but why?"

 

taeyong's eyes peeped over the paper to look at yuta. "the hair, for one. and i'm not terrible."

 

yuta hadn't cut his hair since he formally became taeyong's warrior. it had been four years; they were almost twenty now, and yuta's hair had grown long enough for him to tie up with a red ribbon as was customary. important members of the royal family and the imperial guard usually grew their hair long, except taeyong who hacked the ends of his hair off every time it grew halfway down his neck. it wasn't met with approval but he was free to do what he liked until the day he was crowned king (and then he'd probably insist on having that frivolous law changed, so maybe not even then).

 

"i like your hair," taeyong added. "you've grown very handsome yuta."

 

with that, something between them shifted. just a miniscule amount, but it made all the difference. see, it was one thing to know another person was attractive and to know that that person probably also accepted you were attractive, but it was another thing entirely admit and realise it. knowledge of a fact wasn't anything without understanding it. yuta met taeyong's eyes and the air crackled. yuta swallowed. taeyong licked his lips self-consciously, as the significance of his compliment came to him.

 

"i'm going to finish reading this," taeyong said, turning his eyes away and waving an end of the scroll around. but they both knew it wouldn't be the end of that.

 

 

8.

 

on the twentieth anniversary of the end of the war, the kingdom held a commemorative ceremony. it was more solemn than fun at the imperial palace, though the rest of the country was littered with carnivals and festivities. the king would make a formal address, mourning the loss of yuta's country's land to an enemy which caused his people to scatter across neighbouring lands. many people who worked in the palace were yuta's people who had sought and found refuge after the war. yuta had never lived in a time where his people lived together as a community; he was born a week after the war ended. taeyong was born just months before that. they were close in age, but came from a different time.

 

taeyong seemed very moved by the history of it all. he was quiet, reflective, thoughtful. yuta though...yuta was very moved by the sight of taeyong. his world had found its centre, and as taeyong's warrior, it wasn't wrong of him to neglect the politics in favour of his person. it was the way it should be, in fact.

 

his prince looked terribly regal that day. the dark colour of his hair contrasted beautifully with the scarlet and silver colours of the nation he donned to commemorate the occasion. his features were sharp, his face serious, his eyes mature. yuta realised how his people must have seen him, while yuta saw his sloppy behavior too often to notice what he was sometimes like.

 

 _"he's going to be king one day,"_  yuta realised. he doubted taeyong ever forgot. yuta did. he was so carried away by his love for his _friend_ that he forgot the what else he was.

 

"i think," taeyong started slowly, words so weighted that yuta spun all of his attention to them, "that i want to get you your country back."

 

yuta was taken aback. it was complicated enough that the nation had defended yuta's people from the enemies and allowed them to live in the country. the large influx of population caused endless amounts of tension already as it was, that time hadn't managed to repair completely. when yuta's country still existed, the people of two nations had been friendly with one another, but instances conflict spiked once the people were forced to live as one.

 

what taeyong was suggesting was a political minefield. yuta wasn't as educated as taeyong about the nuances of politics, but he knew that. his old country's land was under the control of the enemy, so taking it back would be war. the alternative of giving yuta's people a country was sacrificing some of their own land, and the getting people to give up their ownership would be scarcely possible without violence; violence taeyong couldn't condone and would thus never instigate. yuta couldn't fathom what method taeyong could ever device go achieve what he wanted.

 

"i want you and your people to have a place where you speak your own language and rule yourselves again." his gaze was ablaze and yuta was - stunned. moved.

 

taeyong's universe wasn't just him and yuta, that much was clear. he had the expectations of a country to live up to, and he would strive to go above and beyond them for his people. to his tremendous fortune, now yuta was one of his people.

 

yuta believed that taeyong would find a way. taeyong would always find a way, and yuta would be honoured to witness it.

 

9.

 

unfortunately, things don't always work out so easily.

 

**PART 2.**

 

10.

 

it's not to say that the fallout came without warning.

 

scarcely a fortnight before taeyong became of age and was due to be formally coronated crown prince, he had lunch with a minister's son. youngho was the same age as taeyong and impressively down-to-earth. they had been close for long.

 

"my father is afraid that the ministers may have immoral motives," youngho confided. "we know little about what they might be, if they exist. i do not wish to alarm you."

 

taeyong stilled. yuta stood alert at his side.

 

"i'll promise to keep you informed about all i know," youngho said, sombre.

 

"i appreciate that," taeyong said.

 

three days later, youngho informed him that his father had a fall out with the other ministers, and that he was unlikely to be able to provide much information. taeyong relayed a message for him to keep safe and keep his head low.

 

they couldn't have known what was to come.

 

11.

 

mere days before the coronation, as was tradition, the king challenged his son to a friendly spar to end a chapter of the young prince's life on a memorable note.

 

hesitant as he was with the sword, taeyong mistakenly brushed the edge of his blade against his father's arm before he quickly pulled it away. the injury was not severe, and after his father sought medical attention, neither thought much of it. they had a cordial meal together afterwards, with music to entertain them as the king passed well-meaning advice to his son.

 

12.

 

the next day, taeyong was awaken by guards hauling him to prison.

 

the king was dead.

 

13.

 

prison was lonely, and taeyong spent his nights and days there distraught. he mourned for his father and feared for his future. he feared for his kingdom.

 

the tears wouldn't come. it was just as well, as they would accomplish nothing.

 

in his cell, he put the events and youngho's warning together. he knew that something sinister had been at work, but he knew little else. he should have dug deeper. maybe he could have stopped it.

 

stitching together the disjointed conversations that he had been exposed to, he knew that the king's death had placed on his head. _the prince sparred with a poison-laced blade,_ he heard. a part of his heart broke, that everyone he loved would believe he would hurt someone so dear to him. but it was futile to argue; nobody who believed would care.

 

he was afforded poorer food than he had ever been in prison, and was far less clean than he'd ever permitted himself to be. the guards were unkind. of course they were, they either deemed him a traitor or worked with those wished him ill. they spoke in front of him rarely, and never to him. he was isolated, too precious to house with the common criminal (or too dangerous).

 

it was dark. he didn't know how much time passed.

 

he wondered when they would sentence him to die.

 

14.

 

taeyong watched in mute horror as a man in black slayed the guards outside his cell. one stroke, and another. they never had a chance cry out before their throats were slit with the deftly wielded blade of a left-handed swordsman. taeyong never had a chance to warn them.

 

taeyong knew that work anywhere, though not an inch of the swordsman's face, hair, or body was exposed. yuta had been trained ambidexterous. his left hand's skill was a secret weapon; weaker than is right, but unrecognisable to those who weren't his master or his charge. he slashed the lock and set taeyong free.

 

"youngho said your father was poisoned. they want you dead. _we have to leave,_ " he hissed.

 

taeyong took his hand and ran. the corridors were littered with bodies. their exit was seamless.

 

he said a prayer in his head for all the men slain in his name. he hoped their families were taken care of.

 

he grieved for yuta's innocence, always given in his name, and held a blazing torch to his own. if only he hadn't been so helpless, yuta wouldn't be a murderer.

 

taeyong knew that heaven didn't have a place for either of them anymore, past this life. they had given up their places for each other.

 

**PART 3.**

 

15.

 

"we have nothing," taeyong said softly when they were far from the palace. they'd burned their clothes and traded their horses and weapons for lesser ones and food. yuta had ridded himself of his precious hair.

 

taeyong's thighs ached from hours on horseback. yuta had long since learnt to silent his screaming muscles, so taeyong was unsure if he hurt. regardless, the horses had to stop for water and rest. taeyong would have rested too, if only his bone-deep exhaustion could have been cured by rest.

 

"we have our lives," yuta said, "and we have each other."

 

taeyong said nothing. he'd lost very much - his father, his kingdom, his reputation, and all of his worldly possessions. everything he'd ever known.

 

"they'll run it to the ground," he said sadly. the prime minister was bound to take over. he had always pushed for raising taxes to inhumane levels. the king should have expelled him from court years ago.

 

the prime minister had been aiming to have his son betrothed to taeyong's sister for very long. it would legitimise his family's claim on the throne. with some clarity of thought, taeyong could finally see the brains behind the plot. "i have to take my country back."

 

"not now," yuta pleaded, "they'll kill you if you return."

 

"i have to. i'm not sure i want to, but i must."

 

"bide your time, your highness, please," yuta implored in earnest. "if you must, let us return with plans and support. give yourself time."

 

taeyong didn't expect the oppressive unhappiness to loosen its hold on him so soon, but yuta was so _silly._ he was starkly reminded all of a sudden of the times they had together when yuta was a thoughtless child.

 

but yuta was right. he reminded taeyong that there was a future, that he had time. they had plans to make and something to work for. hiding was going to be a dangerous game, but they could play it. and as for  _support..._ well, youngho could help. they could work something out.

 

it was strange to feel positive when everything had gone wrong, and yet it wasn't so hard. the sun was out, and the wind was carrying the strands of yuta's short hair. he was radiant, and they had a future. he could hurt at the same time as he could hope.

 

"i wasn't planning on going back without plans, yuta," he said, "they haven't stolen my rational mind away."

 

"oh," yuta said, dumbly. taeyong was ever so grateful to have him around.

 

he smiled for real then, just a trace of an upward tilt of his mouth.

 

it wasn't hopeless, not for them, and not for him when he had yuta's loyalty to carry him a million miles and more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm on twitter at [taeyongiiee](https://twitter.com/taeyongiiee).


End file.
